Josephine Hawke Alphabet
by Millijana
Summary: Josephine Hawke has some Memories she holds near to her heart. These are some of them, probably the most important ones. -modern AU-
1. A is for Anders and Jo

Jo hung up the phone and then went back from the kitchen into the living room and sat back down on the sofa.

"And?"

"Forty-five minutes."

He made a displeased face. "Are you serious? They need solid 45 minutes for a pizza delivery?"

Jo shrugged. "Obviously."

Andy also gave up on complaining. "Where have we stopped before you saved yourself to the phone?"

Jo smiled and leaned back in her corner of the sofa. "I cannot remember?"

Andy threw a pillow at her.

"Seriously, I do not remember where I left off."

"That your uncle has squandered your wealth in the stock market."

"Oh, yes. That was quite a shock for mom." She took the pillow and hugged it against her chest. "The Testament said that we had to live one year in Kirkwall before she could run on her part. "

"And her part of it was what?"

Jo twisted her mouth. "The legal part of the money that Gamlen could not lay his hands on and the house. Gamlen did have residency rights, but could not make a fast buck with."

"As though your grandfather would have guessed it."

"He probably did." She grinned. "So we have bridged this dumb year somehow and then mother had sold the house."

Andy whistled impressed. "That should have brought a lot of money."

"Put it this way, she was able to pay my complete studies, the one of Beth, Carver's two years at College before he had joined the Navy, bought a small house and now can live off with the interest and her widow's pretty good."

"If I had known sooner that you're so rich ..."

Jo threw back the pillow and it hit him on the head. "Buffoon. Who has the better paying job, Mr. Chief Pathologist? Huh? "

He laughed as he pushed his hair back behind his ears. "But I have no savings."

"How should you, if you put your whole money in all sorts of charity projects." Jo shook her head.

She knew Anders Övergaard for 3 years now and had never seen that he bought something for himself - Nothing that he did not necessarily need. She had seen his home and knew it was small and not located in the best part of Kirkwall. On her first visit, Jo was probably a little taken aback when she had looked at the apartment. He had bluntly told her that he would work in a nonprofit hospital right near there in his spare time and that he would donate a lot of money for medicines and medical materials. In addition to funds for a program to tackle child poverty.

She was surprised to say the least. She knew that Anders was a man who did not tolerate injustice. At some crime scenes he had been fairly clear when it came to conclusions about perpetrators. However, she had not expected this. So these evenings when they sat together like this were rare and in the past few years they never really had a chance to speak about these very private things of their pasts. Even though they always exchanged current events.

"How do you get to actually donate half your salary to charity? That's ... unusual." She made a helplessly face. "I mean", she quickly relented when she realized how strange that must have sounded. "If someone gets to know you, he's not prepared for this. You .. uh give yourself not at first glance as a benefactor." She looked at him a little uneasy.

Andy laughed. "So I am an unusual non-benefactor when one gets to know me. Aha." He winked at Jo, who seemed a little embarrassed. "No, seriously. In my home, the social network is much better than here. When I came here, almost penniless and with nothing more than a lot of plans, I was shocked. "

Jo looked at him quizzically. "Is it so much better in Europe?"

Andy shook his head and reached for his beer. "Not everywhere, but in some countries it is."

"Sweden, right?" She persisted again.

"Yes, exactly. This is one of the countries where it is not perfect, neither as bad as it could be. And in any case better than here. "

Jo grinned sarcastically. "That's no big deal. And what made you decide to leave this paradise? It was hardly an outlet for your charity drive." She winked at him.

Andy didn't reply, but looked seriously at the bottle in his hand.

"Did I say something wrong?" Josephine was not always the most talented person when it came to words. She was usually too blunt and sometimes quite insensitive when she was not careful.

Andy shook his head. "No, not really. I've just realized the fact that it's almost been 10 years already. "

Jo shook her head in incomprehension.

"I've been here almost 10 years. Without talking to my father."

"Seriously?"

"Yup." He took a sip of his beer and looked at her again. His brown eyes looked very sad now.

"Oh boy. Want to tell me?"

He shrugged. "There's not much to tell. I did not comply with what my father wanted. Argument arose and I left. "

Jo pulled her dark eyebrows upwards. "And the traceable version?"

Anders sighed and ran his hand through his mid-length hair. "Can you put off your professional tenacity occasionally?"

Jo smiled briefly about it and then took a sip of her own beer.

"All right. As my father had wished, I laid the foundation course for medicine in Sweden. Then I walked over my first internship in surgery. But honestly, it just wasn't my thing." He shook his head.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed again and then lifted his shoulders. "The people were left behind. After a very short time I had been responsible for a part of the ward and have been there for many hours each day to only fit the general requirements, and I will not even start with my own. My dad kept telling me I needed to differentiate myself better. But seriously, I did not want to." He took a swig. "One evening, on a weekend, a man was brought by police escort. During his examination I found inconsistencies that left me somewhat puzzled when it came to the murder he was accused of. At that moment I could not do much. Next day, when I was out of the hospital, I contacted the forensic institute in conjunction. Since I was involved practically in the investigation I received the forensic scientist soon, who was responsible for the case. We had an interesting conversation, and he invited me to come over. Since I was already familiar with sufficient details after I had studied the man. "

"And you, of course, did accept - who needs sleep anyway."

He grinned. "Right. I assisted him in the autopsy and could synchronize with what I had found at the accused. He did not commit this murder. "

"And whom was he said to have killed?"

Andy grinned. He had known that she would ask. She could never be satisfied with half information. "He was accused of killing his wife and then let it look like suicide."

"And what made you suspicious?"

"He had very strange injuries."

"Who says he's not sustained the injuries in the murder?"

"He." Andy looked at her seriously.

Jo pulled her brow in disbelief. "And?"

"He did not kill his wife. She had thrown herself from her balcony - with a rope around the neck. He tried to pull her back up. The bruises on his hips and ribs matched the crime scene, as I got to see later. But at first they left me... well, particularly startled. And the way he spoke of his wife." Andy shook his head.

"And why was the police convinced that it had been him?"

Andy took another swig from his bottle. "That's the ironic thing. He had just been released from prison for assault: Domestic violence against his wife, probably for years until she finally dared to inform the police. So the presumption of the Officers, or Detectives, was not that far fetched. "

Jo grunted disapprovingly. "She's dead, and he is free?"

Andy grinned. "No. He was arrested during the investigation of drug possession and abuse. The toxicological report of his wife had revealed that she had been drugged too when she had taken her own life."

"The same as he?"

Andy nodded. "It was not fully reconstructed. But at the basis of the blood sample and the Toxscreens I had made in the hospital, it could be assumed that they had consumed it together. Hours before it came to the event."

"Are you sure it had not been him?"

"Pretty. He beat her and treated her like shit and yet he did not want to kill her. No battle scars that matched the accident, nothing which indicated that she had defended herself. But she was not dead when she jumped. Her cervical spine was still intact."

"So it is not likely she had jumped from the railing, but had lowered herself?" Actually, it was a statement, but it sounded more like a question.

"Strange, isn't it?"

"Why would you prefer suffocation to the much faster broken neck?"

Andy shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe she didn't want to die either. I cannot tell you. What we found, however, was that he had developed a hematoma, as he tried to pull her up again. But her shoes had been caught in a column and he had to pull very violently, to rid them eventually. "

"Was she ...?"

"I hope so. He has given no indication. "

"Okay. So he had received a penalty afterwards, because he is a bastard who beat his wife and drugged her. But what was about you? "

He grinned, his eyes twinkling again. "My ambition was piqued. The forensic scientist at the Institute told me that there would always be inconsistencies which escape and the doctors, even if they find some mistake, will not report. They bow to their fate and the general opinion that the police would probably already be in the right. This would occasionally lead to convictions that were false. Much worse, however, is the fact that the police often do not let the doctors interfere in the police's job. They prefer to take the easier route."

"And in thy youthful folly you have believed it?"

"How many of your partners in your time as a police officer have arrested or stripped a guy just because he looked like he was dangerous, or because he was already known, without any other known connection? "

"Okay. Yes, it happened once in a while. But in this day and age ... "

"Jo, please. Do not radiate from yourself. You let yourself not be impressed easily and you have a good feel for this. Damn, you're friends with petty criminals. "

She giggled. "Well, 'friends' is a little bit exaggerated now. I have met a few times with her. "

"And where has it taken you?" He looked at her with a grin. He knew perfectly well what had happened between the two women.

Jo laughed, a little embarrassed. "Yes, yes, all right." This little adventure was definitely not one of her worst. Quite the contrary. "Explains all this, but I still don't know why you're here now. Where does your father fit in there?"

"After that, I had tried to spend my free time again as usual with fun, sex and alcohol – the little free time I had- just like before. But I caught myself more often with a beer or wine on the sofa and in research on forensic science." He smiled. "Eventually I realized that I did not feel comfortable with what I was doing professionally. I followed a goal that was not mine. Just because my father had expected it form me. I felt locked away in his imagination, what my life had to look like. A doctor who establishes himself sometime, starts a family with a good reputation and who enjoys a big bank account and a Jaguar in the Garage. "

"That almost sounds like a prison - a golden one-, but nevertheless it remains a prison, right?"

"Yes, no matter how well it is disguised. So I had informed my father that I would cancel my internship to enroll me in Uppsala at the medical school, so I can study forensic science,  
instead of postgraduate studies to decide after my internship for a field of study and carry on my doctorate. "

"And he had not taken it well, I presume?"

Anders shook his head, a bitter grin tugging at his. "Not good does not even come close. He was the personification of anger. And I'm just me, so I was not ready to retreat even a single step. I wanted to get out of this crap. The upshot was that he introduced me to a choice: either I would be a doctor, as we had planned, or I could see how I would finance the second degree. I then opted for the latter option. "

Jo grinned. "But why here? I mean an entire continent away? "

Anders wasn't able to answer before the doorbell rang. Jo clapped her hands excitedly. "Food!" she grinned and jumped up from the sofa. She took her wallet out of her jacket on the coat rack and then opened the door.

"Your delivery, Miss." The supplier reiterated what they had ordered, and then took the money from Jo as she took the pizza from him in contrary.

Frowning, she went back to the sofa and placed the box on the table. "Andy, it's a family pizza."

"Perfect, I have massive hunger."

Jo shook her head and left to take napkins and two new bottles of beer from the kitchen, while Andy opened the box and pulled the pieces apart.

"Your father has thus refused to pay for the study. But that is not necessarily a reason to drop everything and move to the U.S. ", she took up the conversation again when she came back.

He nodded as he grabbed the first piece. "Yeah," he mumbled with his mouth full. When he had swallowed he spoke again. "But Uppsala was still too close to him. He found one reason per week why he would call me to give me a new argument and rub under my nose why I would not make it and why it was a stupid idea." He bit in his pizza and chewed thoughtfully.

"He really seems to be your father."

Andy sighed when he had washed down the pizza with a swig of beer. "Unfortunately, yes. My mother still largely supported me. She sent me little care packages; pasta, bread, just things that could be sent by mail and not get noticed." He took another sip of beer. "He even had found me, when I've gained a different phone number. "

"What did he say?"

"His most frequently named argument was that I would throw away a perfect training for a ridiculous idea. I would mess up my whole career. He did not understand that it was not about career. And even if so, I do also have open career opportunities in this job." He paused again and returned to silently eating his pizza. Jo did the same.

She thought about her mother's reaction in the days when she had opted for the police career. Her father had supported her, but mom had almost been hysterical. After a while, however, she had calmed down. Dad had brought her to her senses. Something that Jo took over after her father's death when it came to her siblings.

"But to fully answer your question: At the University had been flyers hung up on which it came to study abroad. I thought it was a good idea. So I've taken care of everything and have made the trip to Florida. "

"Florida?"

"That happened to be the university mine had worked with. For me, the weather was quite a change. Anyway, I went back after the year and visited my parents. That had been the worst time I've ever had. To be with them, after I had felt free and independent in Florida, was terrible. All the requirements given to me by my father's social position, I could not live like this anymore. After the holidays, it was clear to me that I wanted to return to the U.S. Even Uppsala itself was nothing for me now that I've tasted the wide world. So I cared about to change during the current semester. That did not work and I had to wait until the end of the semester. Enough time to make preparations. Even back then when I did not think actively about it, I prepared not to come back." He grinned. "It was hell. My parents were shocked and even my mother thought it was a bad idea by then. She reproached me that I would have changed so much and that I perhaps should consider to take up the internship again, because I would regret it later for sure. "

"Okay, then that was probably too much of a good thing."

"Yes." He nodded gravely. "You know, at the time I just had no energy left to explain it over and over again. When I had arrived here, I was starting to take care that I could stay here in the long term. "

"What did they say to that?"

"I do not know. I'd written them a letter. I've spoken not a single word with them since I left Sweden." He clearly saw the question on her face. "And I never looked back. Yes, I miss them sometimes and also my home, but I'm happy here. Here I have a task, I am needed and wanted. "

"In any case, the forensic institute has changed since you're there." She winked at him; it really had improved since he had taken the position of the Chief Pathologist. A had pleasant atmosphere in the seriousness that brought their job, but where also was not forgotten to laugh.


	2. B is for Bethany

1.  
Bethany cries. She does not often cry, and not even loud, but it is never unnoticed. Everyone takes care for her. No one can look behind her mask of cuteness, or makes any effort to do so.  
Except for Jo, she knows her sister best.  
Bethany has the ability to wrap people around her finger with just a glimpse of her big eyes or a smile. Jo can't do that, she's too wild and too loud. People like her a lot, though not for her cuteness, but for her being mouthy and her open behavior. But people often get enough of her. They never get enough of Bethany.  
Jo is only sometimes jealous, when it's unfair. When Mom and Dad behave not right. Caver says he hates Beth for that. He's not loud but not really cute either. And he doesn't want to be cute.  
Jo doesn't understand why he is angry with Beth all the time. But who does understand boys. Jo hopes that he will be more like dad when he is grown up. But she isn't sure he ever will be grown up. He'll possibly say something stupid and something terrible will happen to him before Junior High.  
Jo is eight and her siblings are four.

2.  
She likes the girls. Yet she isn't very fond of the idea to have them around the whole weekend. It wouldn't be a good idea to invite Brian over with those giggling and whispering girls in the house.  
She frowns when she hears another spike of laughter from the living room.  
They are sitting there watching Disney movies, drinkin' Coke, stayin' up late and Jo is supposed to take care.  
All three of them on the sofa, Beth in the middle. Her face shines even more than usual. Like someone who has the best time of her life. It's just an evening with friends, what's so special about it?  
The egg timer rings and she opens the oven door. While salting the oven fries, she thinks about her own friends and the differences between her and Bethany.  
Well, maybe Beth treats them more like it is an honor to have them as friends. She gives them little presents, writes them nice letters with little hearts on the margin.  
They give each other nicknames that have nothing to do with their real names. In their letters Beth is for example Lilly. Like some kind of code name.  
Jo thinks it's cool but she has no friends to do such things with - never had. They are too cool for these childish attitudes. Oh, she has notebooks for letters with her friends too, but it's mostly about boys, and their parents, who don't let them behave as grown up as they are. So... more serious problems.  
But to be honest, she doesn't know what Beth and her friends are writing about, she respects the secrets of her baby sister - she's not Carver, who read those things more than just once. And he got a slap for every time Jo caught him reading it.  
"Stop it, or I will tell everyone you peed your bed till a year ago."  
"But that's not true!"  
"I don't care. But I know that they will believe me, even if they know it's not actually true." She grinned at him evilly, but got more friendly again in the next moment. "You wouldn't want her to read your diary either." He wanted to say something, but Jo kept talking: "Don't deny it, I know you have one. And no, I never read it. I respect your private space as well as hers. Now get the fuck out of her room!"  
Beth never knew that Jo defended her privacy. These letters and her diary were the only things Beth truly had for her own, since everyone tends to step into her room whenever she has closed the door, for whatever she's doing there alone in silence. Probably reading some book.

"Girls! Supper!", she yells before entering the living room with the bowl of fries and three plates in her hand.  
She puts it all on the coffee table in front of the sofa and smiles at them.  
"But where is the fourth plate? Aren't you going to eat with us?" Beth seems to wonder about that.  
Jo smiles at her sister. "No, I think you can handle yourself pretty well alone here. I'll be upstairs if you need anything. It's your evening, not mine."  
Beth's eyes got even a bit brighter. "Thank you"  
Jo is sixteen and Beth is twelve.

3.  
The phone rings and her mother gets all serious. "Yes, I am. What...? Oh my God. I'll be there in a minute."  
Jo hears her from the sofa and sees her hurrying through the living room without looking at her daughter. "Where are you going? What's happened?"  
"I'm picking up your sister. I'll be back soon, I hope." Then she's out of the room.  
Jo looks at the closed door for some moments, then shrugs and returns to her TV show. She'd find out when they return.  
It is two hours later when they finally do. It's all four of them. Jo stands on the upper landing and watches them silently.  
She's never seen Beth like this. Her head hanging, tears in her eyes. But her jaws tight and her mouth twitched in her stubborn manner. Her slender hands clenched to fists that shake from time to time the tiniest bit. Barely seeable, but Jo is sure it's there.  
"What have you been thinking?" Leandra asks her daughter, disappointment in her voice. Jo knows this too well. Her own school skipping had urged this a lot. Leandra never was loud, but had a bunch of emotions in her voice that hit you harder than any harsh spoken word could have. Disappointment was one of the worst.  
Beth doesn't answer, doesn't even look at her mother but keeps staring at an imaginary point and tightens her jaws and fists a bit more.  
"Let her go, she's learned her lesson", Jo hears herself speak.  
"Josephine, go back to your room", her father warns her throwing a serious glance at her.  
"No I won't. Carver's here, too."  
"But he will leave now. Both of you, go to your rooms."  
Carver makes his way to the stairs muttering that this one time she broke the rules and got into trouble with their parents he can't stay and watch it, but if he does anything wrong they are all around.  
Jo ignores him and lets him pass.  
"Jo, please." Dad gets more serious.  
"No, I want to know what happened."  
Leandra answers her, her voice still heavy: "She stole a lipstick at the mall. The particular lipstick she had asked for and got the money from me for."  
She sees how her sister shrinks even more, how her shoulders sink lower and her eyes get watery. Jo narrows her eyes in anger and looks at her parents. "Look at her. There is no punishment you can give her worse than this. She will tell you why she did this, when she had figured out herself."  
Jo felt the looks of her parents. Those looks that told her they had expected her to say something like this. They had always expected her to be brought home after such an event by the police. But never Beth. They would have never expected their perfect, nice and good girl to do such a thing.  
Malcolm sighs and Jo sees him giving in. "Four weeks grounding." That's the last thing he says that day about this matter.  
Beth's eyes linger on Jo and the expression in them says 'Thank you'.  
Jo is seventeen and Beth is thirteen

4.  
"I'm sorry"  
Beth looks at her from her place on the window bench. "What for?"  
"You broke up with that boy, didn't you?"  
Beth lays the marker carefully into her book and puts it aside. "Actually he broke up with me, but yes, it's over between us. He wasn't the right one anyway, I think"  
Jo smiles. Only her sister would think about Mr-Right at her age. Those over-romanticized visions are so typically hers. "Do you think it's already time for Mr-Right?"  
She shrugs.  
"What about having fun?" Jo raises her eyebrows a bit. It's no offense and Beth knows that.  
She thinks a moment before answering. "I think that wouldn't help me if something happens like..."  
Jo drops her gaze. She knew what her sister speaks of. Their father is dead for seven months now. The shock still in their bones, they haven't learned to live without him ever since. It's too difficult to face the truth. Jo often thinks he would enter the house any minute, but then realizes it isn't that way. That she has to take care for everything her mother isn't able to do.  
"But having only known him doesn't help you either", Jo whispers.  
Beth sighs sadly. "I know, but at least I'll have as much time with him as possible, have learnt as much of him, have more to remember about him and have used the time given to us in the best ways. I've learnt that a happy life isn't granted."  
"No, it isn't." She swallows heavily and blinks away some tears.  
Jo is twenty and Bethany is seventeen.

5.  
"How is he?"  
"Stable, they say. Mum's with him right now."  
Jo embraces her sister.  
They hold each other. Grateful to have someone to hold and to be held. She felt the shaking of her sister, at first just lightly, but getting stronger with every sob. Jo strikes her sisters head lightly and hushes words of comfort. "He's alive, he will be fine. It's okay."  
When they let go of each other, Beth's eyes are red and her makeup's a mess. "Go home and take Mom with you."  
"I would have to carry her."  
Beth smiles faintly. "Then drag her into the car and chain her, I don't care but take her home, she needs to sleep. And you too. I'll stay here and watch over him."  
Jo smiles. There could be no better person than her to do so. She'd called Jo right after the moment she got herself the phone call by a colleague about the attack on her brother. One of these strange moments where Beth and Carver felt like more like a unity than just fraternal twins.  
'Something had happened, I know it and don't you dare to hide it from me' had been everything she had said. She had called once more from the airport before boarding her plane. That had been when Carver had been brought to the emergency OR.  
That was seven hours ago. Their brother is safe now. They had closed all the injured vessels. He'd lost a lot of blood and it had been tight. But he would make it.  
They enter his room together and Mum looks up. After some more embraces and tear Beth throws her plain out of the room. Carver would need some quiet to recover. It would be her turn to watch over him now. They could come back tomorrow.  
Mom leaves. "When goes your flight back?" Jo expects her to leave very soon again. She has some exams in the near future.  
"When he is back on his feet."  
"But your exams..."  
She starts to unpack one of her bags and piles up books on a table. "I've already taken care of an alternative date from the airport before coming here and got affirmation by my professor when I landed."  
"Beth, he'll be fine, you shouldn't risk..."  
She swirls around and throws some books on the floor in her movement. "I am old enough to decide for myself what I can and shall risk. He is my other part. He is my twin brother, I felt him being injured. I woke up in the middle of the night, without a clue what caused it, feeling bad, worried about something I didn't know. It took me some time to realize that it was Carver. He had been injured, and my heart literally ached a hundred miles away. So don't tell me when I have to leave again, or what's at stake."  
She will stay the full four weeks to leave on a last minute plane to her exam.  
Jo is twenty-seven and Beth is twenty-four.

6.  
"Hey, sunshine!"  
"Remind me to throw something heavy at Varric when I see him next time." She hates this nick. Jo could call her Lilly, but that would be a bit too inappropriate.  
"That would be in about a week I guess."  
"Yes, that's why I'm calling. Do you think you could talk to Mum?"  
"Okay. You aren't coming?"  
"No, no it's not that. It's more that I'll be accompanied by someone. And you know her, it wouldn't be too bad if you could prepare her a bit for my call."  
Jo smiles. "Oh, I've already heard about him."  
"Carver is already there?"  
"Yes, arrived yesterday. I'm on my way to mum anyway."  
"I told him she wouldn't take it lightly. Well then my news are good ones, aren't they?"  
Jo laughs and stops in their mother's driveway. "Yes, that is great news. What does your gut tell you? Mr-Right?"  
Jo knows she is smiling. "Not sure, yet. But a bit fun isn't wrong either, I guess."  
Jo starts smiling, too. "No, it isn't."  
Jo is thirty and Beth is twenty-seven.


	3. C is for Carver and Jo

She heard his car in the driveway and made her way out to the front porch and put both bottles on the small table. By the way he had pulled the handbrake she could tell he was still in one hell of a mood.  
The whole time she was nodding and answering the upset voice on the other side of the line. "Hm." She rolled her eyes. "Yes mom, I will tell him. Yes. Sure. No, no, forget that. I... Okay, fine. I'll do that. Ah yes. Mhm." That was her whole part in this conversation. It has always been this way.  
Jo watched her brother cross the front lawn and finally reach the stairs to the porch. He eyed her suspiciously while taking a seat.  
"Yes, I will call you right back, mom. Yeah, sure. Bye." She pressed the button to hang up and tossed the phone on the table.  
She looked at her younger brother who was leaning back in his chair. He seemed not aware of what he had kicked off.  
"Carver, you are such a douchebag, sometimes, do you know that?"  
He snorted and made an attempt to get up from the chair.  
"Don't you dare run away. You'll stay and explain!"  
He threw a glance at her and leaned back again. "Fine."  
"You knew she would call me, so don't look at me that way."  
"But maybe, dear sister, I thought you would understand and not deplore my decision before talking to me."  
She laughed dryly and handed him one of the beer bottles. "I'm not deploring your decision, I'm deploring you behaviour. 'You can do nothing to make me change my mind'" She shook her head and opened her own bottle, her back leaning against the window frame behind her. "Really? That's what you said?" She took a big swig of her beer.  
He sighed. "More or less." He opened his bottle. "Jo, I'm not the little boy she can make the decisions for anymore. I'm capable of making my own."  
She nodded. "Yeah, you are." She pushed herself away from the frame and pulled another chair nearer. After she'd sat down she pointed the neck of her bottle at her brother. "But you are also old enough to know this is the best kind of reaction to make her even more upset."  
Carver nodded. "I should have known. But I was so sure she would at least be a bit..." He broke off.  
"Proud?" Jo helped her brother.  
"Yeah. Proud", he answered quietly. "Jo, this is a great chance for me."  
She watched him for a while while they both drank their beer. "I know," she said eventually. "I can't even remember the first time you talked about it. You were... fifteen maybe."  
"Twelve."  
She snorted. "Dad was still alive, right. I remember the lesson he gave you, after you told him. 'If you really wanna take that path, it's a hard one. Good grades, good health, perfect physical shape.' That's what he said."  
Carver nodded. "Basically."  
Jo smiled. "He told you he would be very proud, if you would make it." She looked at her empty bottle. "Carver, you know, none of us can stop you from doing this."  
"But a bit of encouragement wouldn't be too bad."  
"Oh please. Wanna know what she is thinkin' about? That damn folded flag in her hands while she is crying in front of your fucking coffin." She spat out the words while she stood up. "Want another one?" She pointed to the beer in his hands.  
"If I can stay for the night."  
"I forgot to tell you: She asked me to say that you may only return if you'll come back to your mind. I suppose that means you'll stay here your whole visit."  
"Great." He grumbled and leaned back a bit further until he more laid in his chair than sat.  
Jo took the empty bottle from her brother and headed into the kitchen.  
She knew exactly why he did this, she knew back when they were children, and she still did. That was the reason he came to her instead of dealing with their mother. Leandra was a wonderful mother, full of love for her children, but after losing her husband she tended to be a bit overprotective.  
With her eldest daughter being a cop she was afraid enough to lose another member of her family.  
When Carver decided to become a soldier she called Jo three times a day. She tried to persuade her daughter to talk Carver out of joining the Navy. But in the end it was Jo who persuaded her mother to support her son, instead of badmouthing his wish.

Carver suffered under being a twin. He loved his twin sister dearly, but he hated not being seen as an individual. He has always been compared to Beth. It was always the twins and never Carver alone. Jo had always tried to teach their mother to stop calling her siblings that, even when they were alone. But Leandra behaved as if she didn't understand what was the problem.  
Carver had had a hard time back then. He was fighting for his dream and his individuality. He wasn't much like Bethany. Although the two of them had a special connection to each other that was frightening sometimes, he had a completely different way of dealing with things.  
Carver was straightforward, he called things the way they were and didn't think it could hurt anyone.  
When father died he became more bitter. In his teen years he rebelled a lot. Jo could remember him skipping school and drinking too much alcohol when he was far too young for that. Once she had caught him smoking pot in the backyard when their mother had visited some friends over the weekend. Jo had been 24 by that time and she was about to move into her first own apartment in a few weeks.  
She had never told anyone about it, but had talked some sense into Carver again. Knowing he wanted to join a special force it was easy to explain that they probably wouldn't take a drug addict.  
Things got better with one or two outbreaks of rebellion on Carver's side. All of them could be handled well by Jo. She talked straight to him, taking him as serious as he deserved.  
Aggression and rebellion were his way of mourning the loss of his father. Jo had talked to a grief counselor and had learned that this was one way for young people to deal with their loss.  
Leandra couldn't handle it. Even after years she still grieved for her husband so much, she couldn't stand even talking about him. So Jo took up the baton.  
And now it was her regular job to act as a mediator between her mother and her brother.

She returned to the front porch and watched her brother through the screen door. He was flipping through some messages on his cell phone.  
He looked too big sometimes… With all his muscles, his short hair, he seemed so big. Too big for her front porch. He snickered over something he read in one of his messages.  
Jo smiled and walked through the door. And sometimes, when he laughed like this, he seemed more like a big boy than a grown up man.  
She sat down in her chair and handed him his beer.  
"You've talked to Beth lately?"  
"Are you trying to lead me on sidetracks?" she scoffed. "But no I haven't. Not in about... 4 weeks I think. Mother keeps me updated though."  
Carver laughed victoriously once. "Not as much as I can do." He handed her his phone, now a picture of a blonde man shown on the screen. "This is her new guy."  
Jo raised an eyebrow suspiciously. The man was handsome. Maybe her own age. Light brown eyes, he had a strong jaw and a prominent nose. He smiled a bit sheepishly on the picture, though there was something stern in his face that made Jo sure he hasn't always been this way.  
"Who's he?"  
"They met 3 weeks ago on some charity event. He's been a high ranking officer in the army, but retired after his father died." Carver snickered over something only he knew.  
"And?" Jo looked irritated at her brother. "What's so funny about it?"  
"He's the senator's illegitimate son."  
"You're kidding!"  
"Nope, ma'am."  
Jo threw her head back in laughter. "Maker, she always had higher goals. What else do you know of him? If he's not with the military anymore, what is he doing then?"  
"Politics. He traces his father's path."  
"Senator?"  
Carver nodded.  
Jo raised her feet to put them atop of the porch's railing. She was now also more lying in her chair than sitting. "I suppose she plans on staying in New York then?"  
"I dunno. She said, before she'll do anything else she will finish her study. Let's see if they are still together then."  
Jo nodded. She smiled wickedly while asking her brother her next question. "What about you? Anything new on this concern?"  
Carver laughed. "If you explain how I should manage it, with my job and everything. Not the best initial situation for starting a relationship."  
"True."  
"You know that better than me, I guess? What about you and this coroner guy? Anders, isn't it?"  
"What do you mean?" She sighed.  
"Are you friends again?"  
"We've never been anything else. That's why we don't have sex anymore."  
Carver chuckled. "Wise decision, sister. He was too soft for you anyway."  
Jo guffawed. "Too soft? You can sleep here in this chair if you keep being this sassy." She sipped from her beer. "Too soft... tsk."  
Carver shook with laughter. "Seriously, Jo. I can't imagine you being a doctor's wife."  
"He's no doctor in the classical sense."  
"I know, but it doesn't matter. You need someone who is eye to eye to you, someone more .. I don't know..."  
"More what?"  
"I'm still thinking."  
"Oh, that'll take a while. Wake me up when you're either finished or it's time for me to go to work."  
He pushed her in her chair, so that she nearly fell off it when two of its legs left the ground. "Hey! I can even remove the chairs for the night," she menaced.  
He chuckled again. "Do whatever you're pleased to do, sister."  
They sat there silently for a while. "Seriously, Jo. The man you can be happy with is a bit more badass than this doctor-friend of yours. He would lose all of your fights."  
"And that is a bad thing?"  
"Yeah, because you are not always right!"  
Jo snorted. "What do you know?"  
They kept teasing each other for a while. When the sun was setting and after the fourth bottle of beer she eventually raised from her chair. "Okay, I'm off. It's work tomorrow."  
"Already?"  
"Yeah. I'm nearly thirty now. I'm getting old, you know?"  
"Seems so."  
She claped the back of his head lightly. "If you want me to deal with mother for you, you should maybe behave a bit more polite."  
"I'm drunk."  
"You are not. I've never seen you drunk since you were 18."  
"Well, you don't see me very often."  
She sighed. "Yeah far too rarely. I guess in the future it will be even more this way."  
He got up and looked very serious. "I suppose so."  
"You know that we will miss you, don't you?"  
"You already said that a few years ago."  
She sighed heavily and looked at him. "Carver but this time it's different. You will be sent to the most dangerous places in this fucked up world, with no certainty of coming back alive or at all." She dropped her gaze to the bottle in her hand.  
"Hey, don't do that." He laid one of his big hands on her shoulder. He was so much like their father.  
"Carver, we are frightened as hell to lose you. I know you wish to do this, but you need to know that you mustn't do that to let us be proud of you. We already are. For many reasons, not your fucking carrier. For yourself, the man you are - as insensitive as you might be sometimes."  
He sighed heavily, lifting his head until he looked up into the sky. "I want to be proud of me myself, Joey."  
She looked at him surprised. He rarely called her 'Joey'. That he did now meant that she was getting to the core.  
"This is what I want to do, Jo. I have thought about this for a very long time. Really. I am a soldier. I might as well die during any assignment I will get in the future. But if I do, I wanna be sure that it was not some trivial shit. And that's very likely considering the assignments I got in the past. Probably being run over by a car, or something like that."  
"With your luck? You probably shoot yourself."  
He smiled. "I know what I am doing here. And I know the danger, but still this is my wish."  
"Okay, I think I just wanted to be sure that you don't take this lightly." She made a step nearer to her brother and hugged him and he returned the gesture. "Just don't die, okay?"  
"I'll try."  
She heard the relief and the smile in his voice. She was still afraid of losing him, but she couldn't choose his path for him. The only thing she could do was to make sure that he knew what he was getting himself into.  
"Now, let's get inside, the neighbours are already talking I guess. The cop from next door getting drunk on her front porch with her soldier brother. That'll make for some gossip."  
He laughed. "You give them reasons to gossip? I should talk to them, while you are at work tomorrow."  
"Don't stretch it, Carver."  
"Yes, Ma'am!"

She talked to their mother the next day. Leandra still had problems accepting that her son was willingly risking his life - even more than he was doing anyway. But she understood that this was his decision and it would be important for him to get her support.  
Carver made it through 'Hell Week' in his first attempt. The following weeks were hard as well, but he achieved very good results in all fields and finally received his badge at the end of the training.  
The whole family gathered when he came for his visit after his first assignment. He wore his badge proudly - as well as his new scar on his left eyebrow.


	4. D is for Dad

It rang and I picked up the phone. My life had been pretty normal until that moment. But this phone call should change everything for me and my family. It should destroy what had been my life. It would teach me to fight for what's normal to others; what had been normal to me.

"Jo?" His voice was hoarse and low. I barely recognized him.

"Dad?" It was no rhetorical question. He was undercover right now. He would never call us. We knew that. It was one of the golden rules when under cover. If he broke it, something had gone wrong in the most terrible way.

"Hit the record button – now. Don't ask questions, I don't know how much time I have. I don't even know if this phone is bugged."

I swallowed hard. This was important. I had to function for this call; I could fall to pieces later. I remember mum entering the room, and the twins had been there, too. But today, I don't know anymore if they'd been in the room before, or what we've been doing until this call. It's like everything that's happened before on that day has vanished.

"Are the others there?"

"Yes." My voice was thin and hollow. This was not me. That was my anxiously self, which I hide normally, but there it was stronger.

"Fine, let them hear this, too." He waited until I told him that everything was like he had instructed. "Jo, you know where I have the files. After this call, take them, hide them. Then call Paul, tell him they got me. I made a mistake and the target got wind of it. They try to interrogate me, but until now I could withstand. But no matter what I do, they will kill me."

Mum shrieked behind me. As I turned my head to look in her direction, I saw her holding her hand over her mouth with a pale face and watery eyes. Bethany was at her side, holding her hand and supporting her.

"Dad, where are…"

"No", he interrupted me. I heard he was afraid, he was sad. It must have been strange to call your family for possibly the last time in your life and not have enough time to hear at least one more time their voices. It must be strange to know you will never see their faces again, kiss or embrace them. Never tell you eldest daughter to be more like a girl sometimes and your son to be a bit more responsible. To encourage your younger daughter to be more confident. To tell your wife you love her.

It was possibly as strange and disturbing as hearing your dad and husband for the last time and never get the chance to thank him for everything. Thank him for having this life full of love and security, caring and support. A life that was about to break.

"Jo, this is important. Tell Paul it is even worse than we have thought. I wasn't able to pass them the latest information - I had no chance. But I could hide it. I hid it where we played football when you were a child. Do you remember the place we sat down to make a break?"

"Yes." My voice was weak. Of course I remembered it. I would never forget those wonderful mornings where it just had been the two of us.

"Good. I hid it there. I'm sure you can show them. But don't go alone. Promise me you won't go alone there. They will track you; they will observe you and maybe try to catch you. After this call instantly dial Paul's number. He will make sure you are safe. Okay?"

I nodded until I realized he would not see it. He would never again see me nodding. "Okay Dad." My voice was breaking and I felt the first tears running down my face. The first of the many I would shed. Tears I still shed today when I think of him.

"Good. Now listen, I want that all of you know that I love you. I am very proud of each of my children. All of you are special and you will do well. I know this. Leandra, thank you for all these wonderful years we had. I… I am sorry that it had to come to this. I had wished for a few more years."

We heard a door crack open in the background. And watched in silence how someone asked what had happened. Then we heard my father grunt and the line went silent.

We listened until there was only the sign in the line that told us that there was no longer a connection. Peep-peep-peep. That was all what was left of my father. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I fought the despair back that was about to overwhelm me.

He had counted on me and if I would not do now what he asked of me it was all in vain. They would find us, they would come and kill us, too. They would find the files he kept here and his gathered information would be lost. He would have died in vain. I had to get moving.

It felt like moving through hip deep water. It was difficult and I felt being too slow. It was more a fight for steps than just taking them. I heard my mother crying together with my sister. My brother had left the room. I heard the slamming of the backdoor when he left the house.

I couldn't see any of their faces, I had to concentrate on my task. The last one I would ever get from my father. I had to take care that the rest of my family would be safe. That's why he had called; to keep us safe. Not to say goodbye. A call would always be too dangerous. But he had to warn us, and he had to keep me moving. A task or an order would keep me sane enough to care for our family as long as it was needed. He thought me capable of this. I would not belie his expectations.

In his office, I found the phone numbers I needed. Paul was alerted as soon as he heard my voice. I told him what happened. And he immediately sent officers to collect us and bring us to a safe house.

Mum was the hardest to get moving. She yelled at Paul, when he arrived, why he didn't do anything and that he should know where Malcolm was and send help.  
But all he could do was to tell her that he didn't know where Malcolm was and that it would be too late. After this call they knew where to look for the information and there would have been no need to keep him alive. Mum was not herself. She hit Paul and yelled at him that he had killed her husband, when he gave him the order to do this job.

I, and possibly she too, knew Dad had volunteered. He was after this gang for 14 months now. And this should have been the last investigation before they had finally enough evidence for taking someone into custody bigger than just a sidekick.

Three days later I went with a team of sixteen Officers, Detectives and Agents to the place where Dad and I had spent the Saturday mornings of my youth – back when Carver had been too young to accompany us. When I had been too young to imagine that I would think back to these times one day.

I showed them the place he had told me and then watched them searching for the hidden information. They found a buried tin can with a memory stick inside. And a note, just in case someone found this who was not me or the police. It would have told the finder to hand it over the police.

It would not have been likely that one of the suspects would have found this. He hadn't been here in years. We never have even spoken of this. Even today, I don't think often about this place. Even less; it hurts too much.

We buried my father seven weeks after his call. We didn't identify him. They told us he was in a too bad condition. Only by his dental information and the DNA he could have been identified.

There were many people at his funeral. Most of them were colleagues, but also some friends and us. The superintendent had sent his condolence the day before.

We had mourned my father for weeks. Bethany took care of mother, and Caver and I took care of everything else. We accepted the condolences given to us, organized the funeral, chose the flowers – everything.

Caver was no person of many tears, though he had shed them. But now he was only grim and bitter. It would be a hard time with him in the future.

And me? I felt numb. I could not even listen to the speech, even less understand or memorize it. I don't know what happened in what order. I can just remember his casket being let down to the bottom of his grave. The gunshots. The flag handed to my mother. And handshakes; so many of them. I remember a blur of faces - some more familiar, others less. There have been some hugs. But I didn't want them. That's something I can remember well. I wanted them to leave. I didn't want to be there. All I wanted was my Dad back.

I did not know by then that the hardest part of losing him was not the grief. It was getting back to life. Work, getting the bills paid, and making my mother live again instead of just breathing. Taking care that Caver did not kill him in his attempts to handle his anger and grief. Making Bethany smile again, instead of just pretending to do so.

You ask who took care of me? Them - my family - all of them. They kept me whole, when I would have broken apart without them needing me. I had chances to cry, to be angry or sensible.

And there was this goal. Paul gave me my father's files back. The FBI had the copies of them. Since it turned out to be no local problem it was their case now. I didn't want to join the FBI then. Today it's something I think about sometimes. But since I have my own track now I suppose there is no need to make haste in this topic. I still have time. When he is locked up for the rest of his life I still can enlist me for the training. Maybe they don't want me, but I'm sure they would take care that I am far away from this case that revolves around my father's death. Now I can do whatever I like. In the department for gang crimes our cases often cross his wheeling and dealing and I gather information until I have enough to actually investigate. He just needed to give me a reason.

Now that you are here, I have one.


End file.
